


L.O.V.E.

by badluckvixen13 (alteringviews)



Series: Media Series [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Black Hermione Granger, Discrimination, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Married Couple, Viktor's Accent A La Books, harrassment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 03:37:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8874250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alteringviews/pseuds/badluckvixen13
Summary: She was cleaning and he was pretty sure that whatever had set her off was going to piss him off. They still had condoms didn't they?





	

She had to be cleaning, Viktor thought at the scent that greeted him, the sound of music, the old muggle player singing throughout their flat. It smelled like muggle products, the natural kind made with real lemons which meant that she’d had a bad day. And she was listening to this song, meaning she was feeling a tad melancholy. 

He bet that something happened at work.

_ L is for the way you look at me… _

_ O is for the only one I see… _

_ V… is very, very extraordinary… _

_ E-- is even more than anyone that you adore can--Love... _

He smiled setting his bag down and walking in, surprised that she hadn’t felt his presence in the house yet, but then he hears her voice singing along, warm and sultry.

“Is all that I can give to you… Love is more than just a game for two… _ ” _

He rounded the corner to see her waltzing with a broom, twirling around the spacious kitchen sweeping, not missing the stack of paperwork on her work desk, nor the fact that she was doing so in just her underwear.

“ _ Two in love can make it. Take my heart and please don’t break it…. _ ”

“ _ Love vas made for me and you, _ ” he sang dutifully and she spun, dropping the broom and her eyes brightening before leaping at him. 

He smiled, catching her and lifting her, kissing her and letting the scent of parchment and lemon sink into his senses. It’s the scent of home now that he’d left the Krum manor for good and moved in with Hermione. His grandmother was trying to bridge the gap between him and the family still, more proud of Viktor’s accomplishments and the prestige that he afforded the family than his pride at having a muggle born witch for a daughter-in-law. His mother wouldn’t even speak to him, nor any of his relatives who still did. 

The wedding had been an interesting affair. Most of his invitations, unless they were to students from Durmstrang or people he’d met playing Quidditch, were pretty much all returned unopened. His grandmother had been there and had promptly written his mother, father, and all of his siblings for being so very ignorant.

“Am home, mila,” he said, holding her aloft with his hands around her waist as she clung to him. 

Her hair was braided beneath a bandanna and freshly washed. He bet she’d taken a bath, long and relaxing, meaning that she had had an exceptionally trying day at work. Hermione wasn’t one to ever indulge in such luxuries. 

“Welcome home,” she said softly, kissing his cheek as he smiled up at her. 

“Vhat velcome,” he said warmly, “Does husband know you allow strange men to see you like this?”

She smirked, “I don’t know I’ll have to ask him.”

He smiled stroking the smooth brown skin of her bare thigh. She must have been more than irritated with wizarding robes that day as she was only waltzing around in underwear, plain black bra and a pair of boy shorts that hugged the swell of her ass the way he liked. He could have watched her waltz around like that for hours all smooth skin and warmth. It had been a strange quirk of hers when they’d moved in together, one that he’d relished in after the wedding. She’d stated, after their honeymoon, that he’d had her in every possible way state of dress so there was no use of being shy about being in her underwear around him. 

_ Besides, I get hot rather easily when I don’t want to be warm. _

He hadn’t really understood what that meant until she started sleeping naked with him, pressing the full womanly expanse of her body against him and making it near impossible to sleep sometimes. 

“Haff bad day, yes?”

She sighed, “Was it obvious?”

“Paper on desk in no order, lemon, undervear and broom--yes. Vhat happen?”

She shook her head, “It’s not important, how was the game?”

“Is important,” he said. “Tell, mila.”

“I had a talk with HR about… harassment.”

His eyes narrowed, “Is important, mila. Tell. Harassment?”

She sighed, knowing that Viktor would be up in arms about it. It was something that she expected when she’d agreed to move to Bulgaria with him and work to help reform their Ministry since the war. She'd needed the break from England and gladly threw herself into learning the culture the language and being with him in their flat in Sophia until they had a chance to go looking for a house.

Hermione had the feeling that Viktor’s grandmother was telling him not to do so as she would leave him her house upon her death since the older woman had made it very clear that they were welcome.

“It’s nothing big, I promise.”

“Mila,” he said almost humorously. “You haff strange idea of vhat is big and not. Tell.”

She sighed, “There was… hate mail and talk about my parents… Harry, Ron… they can be… so very mean…”

“Vhat else?”

“Oh you know, the usual…”

Viktor swatted her hip making her yelp, “Tell, mila. No hiding.”

She huffed, “My supervisor called me a mudblood and proceeded to try and… force himself on me.”

_ “ _ _ Kakvo?! Kak, po dyavolite, e tova, che obiknoveno? Shte shiban ubie nego! _ ” 

She winced, it was bad when all he could do was yell in Bulgarian, even worse when he cursed. Viktor hated cursing in front of her, having been raised a very specific way. 

He growled, seething and set her on the counter as she winced and he flushed red, hot bright and angry. 

“Is not  _ normal _ , is not  _ okay, _ mila. You... You are precious. Okay? You are okay?”

Hermione rolled her eyes, “I have dueled death eaters, literally to the brink of death. One grimy politician is nothing.”

“Is not point.”

“I know,” she said. “I didn’t want to tell you… because well...it’s important that I stand on my own feet.”

Viktor glowered at her, “Hate you more because of me.”

She winced, that was true, rather true. The women of Bulgaria were down right up in arms, attempting to trash her office, make her life and generally get her to quit upon hearing that she’d snagged their most sought after bachelor. It had been worse when Viktor had come to pick her up after a meeting with the Bulgarian Quidditch League in his uniform, grinning and happy to kiss her senseless in the hallway.

She remembered her office being trashed when she returned from her lunch break and all sorts of slurs carved into her desk. It would be best not to tell him about that either.

“It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Viktor groaned, “Is not supposed to handle. I am husband. I break necks, yes?”

“You are my husband, there will be no breaking of any necks so put away the Vratsa Rage, okay?”

He growled.

“I don’t want Sergei coming after me because you are breaking his players on the field.”

He snorted. That had been one time and he still hadn’t lived it down. In his defense, it wasn’t every day that your parents refused to come to your wedding, you argued with them threatening hexes and curses before moving everything out of the manor once and for all. It wasn't every day that you married the love of your life either, so go figure. 

He still wasn't talking to them, though he knew that they weren't doing well since their very public decision to talk about Hermione to the reporters. He supposed they thought their pure blood status would protect them from the whole of Britain who still worshiped the ground her pretty brown feet marched over.

“Will kill him,” Viktor said finally and Hermione smiled, shaking her head. 

“How about we focus on the next three weeks?”

“Vhy?” He asked looking at her.

“Well apparently, hexing your boss for sexual harassment, but being incredibly good at your job, leads to a three-week suspension in Bulgaria.”

He looked at her, “Oh…”

“Da,” she said pleasantly. “Which means I can come to your game in Russia, that terrible gala you hate…”

He smiled, “Guess something good come of it.”

“Guess so.”

He looked around, “Are done?”

Hermione looked around and shrugged, “Think so.”

He smiled and picked her up again, “Vould like it if vere time to be husband. Cannot kill Bolshkov, but can please vife, yes?”

She hummed, “Can I have it slow?”

“Da.”

“Rough?”

“Da.”

“In the shower?”

He grinned, “Could start on floor.”

“Ooh,” she said, rolling her hips against his, “I’m intrigued. We haven’t done the floor since the honeymoon.”

He grinned and kneeled, taking them to the floor. Yes, it would be a very wonderfully good three weeks.

“Obicham te,” she sighed as their hips met. Him in her, her legs around his waist and so desperate.

“I luff you,” he said and proceeded to show her how much.

When they lay awake, exhausted and warm, tangled in one another.

“Hungry?” she asked.

He grunted, “Da.”

“We should order.”

He grinned, “Brilliant voman.”


End file.
